Lullaby of Broadway
by Dizzy-Dreamer
Summary: sleep tight, let's call it a day; listen to the lullaby of old Broadway -Flack/OC- -original character death-
1. Chapter 1

Summary: _sleep tight, let's call it a day; listen to the lullaby of old Broadway._  
Pairing(s): for now, just Don/OFC.  
Spoilers: none.

I do not own recognised CSI: NY characters, The Wizard of Oz, Judy Garland, Legally Blonde, Kate Shindle, Wicked, Subway, Pizza Express or anything related to the above which may or may not be mentioned. I do, however, own anyone and everyone else mentioned. With thanks to delgaserasca, Iona, Petra, Bekkie and Laura for their beta skills, help and information-retaining talents.

* * *

**LULLABY OF BROADWAY**  
_(sleep tight, let's call it a day; listen to the lullaby of old Broadway)  
---_

"So, I was thinking," Don tucked his bare feet beneath him as he settled onto his sofa. He sandwiched the phone between his ear and shoulder as he reached for the remote control and flicked the TV on. "Even though you're a big-time Broadway star now and you're very busy and important, you wanna catch a movie tomorrow?"

"I'll have my people call your people," Lissa laughed. Don grinned at the sound of his girlfriend's voice. "I think I can manage that." Lissa twirled a silk rose between her fingers.

(…)

_She had finally reached the end of the unusually long line of mostly appreciative fans at the stage door and was ready to go home and fall into bed. Without looking up, she stepped over to the final person, who thrust a red silk rose at her. She looked up and a smile crossed her face._

"_You came!"_

"_Of course I came. I told you I would," he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him. _

"_What did you think?"_

"_The headmistress—"_

"_Shizstress—"_

"—_was pretty hot—" he was cut off by Lissa's elbow in his ribs. "The girl in the wheelchair was pretty good, too."_

"_Wasn't she? I thought she was the best by far."_

"_Your modesty and humility is so admirable."_

(…)

"Good, 'cause I booked the night off specially. Of course, I'm on call for the next fortnight to make up for it." He absently flicked past a football game before hurriedly returning to it. Lissa heard the TV through the phone.

"Oh, you poor thing," Lissa giggled. "You forgot the game, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't," he answered. Lissa couldn't see him, but she was sure he was pouting.

"Yeah, you did."

"I had other things on my mind," he answered defensively, dropping the remote back onto the table and wriggling back into the corner of the sofa.

"Like?" Lissa encouraged an answer.

"Like this cute blonde I saw earlier. About five-six, hazel eyes, can blow the roof off of any theatre on Broadway…"

"I'm five-seven," Lissa smirked. "But since I spent practically all twenty minutes of my stage time folded into a wheelchair, I'll let you off."

"Oh, thanks. Hey, I gotta go," he grumbled. "I'm on call tonight. They just called."

"Poor baby," Lissa crooned. "Go kick the bad guys' asses. I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll pick you up around eight?" he suggested

"Now that we've met—" Lissa began to sing, but Don cut her off.

"Don't even think about it, Liss."

She chuckled. "'Night, Donny."

"Night Lissie." He hung up miserably and headed for his bedroom to pull his shoes on his feet.

(xxx)

Twenty two hours, three arrests, four interrogations, a hurried shower and a clean suit later, Don Flack was locking his weapon in his desk drawer and shoving his feet into his shoes at the same time. He glanced at the tie thrown over the back of his sofa, dismissed it and flew out of his apartment. He was ten minutes late and he would never hear the end of it if he didn't meet his girlfriend on time.

"You're late, Detective," Lissa greeted him with a smile.

"I was washing my hair," he excused himself and kissed her hungrily. She pretended to swoon, before slapping him playfully.

"Take me to the movies, Detective!" she ordered. "And nothing gory and gross!"

"Damn, I was thinking we could go see the new Taranti—"

"How does 'bite me' sound to you?"

"If you insist," Flack responded cheekily, leaning towards her. She pushed him away.

"There's this movie theatre Jools and I found a couple of weeks ago," she began, slipping her arm through his. "It shows classic moves. They're showing The Wizard of Oz."

"Liss, seriously?"

"C'mon, it's Judy!" Lissa pouted. "I love Judy."

"I know," Don answered, kissing her pouted lips. "But The Wizard of Oz?"

"I'm not sure I'm getting your point," Lissa informed him, tugging him in the direction of the cinema.

"I'm not sure you're getting mine!" Don exclaimed. "Don't you spend every night _inside _that story?"

"That's so _not _the point!" Lissa laughed. "I spend my evenings in the _prequel_."

"How can it be a prequel if it covers the story and its aftermath too?"

"Don?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him as they walked through Times Square. She pointed out the billboard for Legally Blonde.

"I auditioned for that show," she began. "They didn't want me."

"They don't know what they're missing," Don told her. She grinned. "I got my niece tickets for that show."

"Traitor!" Lissa declared.

"It was a while ago now. She loved the girl who played that bitch character – Valerie?"

"Vivienne. Kate Shindle."

"Yeah, her. Said she was a Miss America or something."

"Yeah, she was. This is the place," Lissa changed the subject skilfully, slowing to a halt and looking up at the marquee. Don looked at her.

"Really?" he pleaded.

"Really. C'mon, it's _Judy._"

"You _so _owe me," he told her, leading her through the door to the ticket booth. He bought two tickets and a box of popcorn and allowed his mind to wander as his girlfriend chatted excitedly to the woman who sat beside her. As the film began, the noise around him settled into a comfortable silence as the audience enjoyed the film. Lissa settled back into her seat and took his hand. He squeezed it gently and tried to focus on the story.

A little over an hour and a half later, the lights began to return to their full brightness and Lissa sighed happily as the credits rolled.

"You _like _that movie?" he asked incredulously. He'd spent the last one hundred and one minutes –he'd counted– trying to avoid watching the movie without offending the people around him.

"It's _Judy_," she insisted.

"But… it was… lame." Don shrugged apologetically, mentally kicking himself as Lissa glared at him. It was a glare similar to the one she had perfected for use on stage – disappointment, frustration, a little bit angry.

"It was beautiful," she declared. Her tone indicated that Don should not continue the argument. Instead, he decided to make it up to her.

"Wanna grab some food?"

"Anything but pizza," Lissa responded. Don's grin faded and he turned away from the Pizza Express he'd been leading his girlfriend towards. "Unless they do something that _isn't _pizza?"

"I think they do pasta dishes," Don suggested. Lissa grinned widely.

"You just said the magic word!"

"Think?" Don asked innocently. Lissa slapped his shoulder and dragged him towards the restaurant.

(xxx)

"What are your plans for tomorrow?" Don asked as they slowed to a halt outside Lissa's apartment building.

"It's understudy rehearsal day! I get to watch Baby Nessa strut her stuff." Lissa answered happily. Despite the late hour, her eyes sparkled with excitement. Don's heart skipped a beat.

"Not that she gets to do much strutting." Don observed.

"Not _on_-stage," Lissa replied mischievously. "Off stage on the other hand… that's another story altogether. We do lots of strutting."

Don smirked before kissing his girlfriend goodnight and watching her bound up the steps and through the door. He shook his head, grinning, as he walked away; her constantly high energy levels never ceased to amaze him.

(x)(x)(x)

Tuesday morning was a bright one and Don woke up late with the sun beaming onto his face through the curtains he never got round to closing the previous night. He leapt into the shower, scrubbing shampoo into his hair and washing as quickly as he could manage. He brushed his teeth and dried himself at the same time, while pulling a clean shirt out of his closet and trying to decide which tie to wear. He eventually settled on a purple one his mother had bought him and pulled his clothes on, foregoing his usual morning coffee and racing out of his apartment. He returned two minutes later to lock the door.

He slid into the precinct half an hour late and received glares from the Chief who was speaking to another detective. He flopped into his chair and checked his mail before opening a tan folder and making a head start on some paperwork. Anything to please the Chief, he decided.

Time marched on. Don was disturbed by a shadow hovering over his work. He looked up to find his girlfriend waving a booklet with discount coupons for Subway. "Can you escape?" she asked. Don dropped his pen, wriggled his fingers and rolled his shoulders before looking at his watch and nodding.

"I think I've been doing paperwork for a decade and a half."

Lissa grinned. "I just watched Baby Nessa take her first steps."

"Does she get your seal of approval?"

"Well, she wobbles really nicely when she walks."

"I'll take that as a yes, then," Don declared, leading her out of the building. They walked towards Subway sharing stories of their mornings – well, Lissa shared stories, Don had done nothing but paperwork and had been so engrossed in it that he hadn't noticed anything going on around him. They reached Subway, Lissa still chatting animatedly about the rehearsal she'd watched, and bought their subs. As they sat down, Lissa looked at Don thoughtfully.

"Don," she began, reminding herself to be tactful. "Did you dress with your eyes closed this morning?"

Don looked down at his wardrobe choice and frowned. "Huh?"

"Green shirt and purple tie? Don, that's worse than your usual hideous ensemble."

"I was late?" He offered as an excuse. "And I didn't have my morning coffee."

"Neither did I!" Lissa protested, knowing what Don's response would be before she spoke.

"You don't even _drink _coffee."

"That's not the point."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence as they ate their lunch, before Lissa spoke up again.

"Kerry asked what it was like to have a cop for a boyfriend earlier."

"Which one is Kerry?" Don asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin and tossing the wrappers from his lunch into the waste bin provided.

"She plays Elphaba. The green one," Lissa clarified. "My height-ish, red hair, green eyes – you've met her before."

"Oh, yeah. I remember. What did you say?"

(…)

"_I sleep well at night," Lissa answered with a smile. She loved to talk about Don. Jools spat out the water she'd just taken a mouthful of and Lissa had to duck to avoid being showered. A few seconds later and Lissa realised the connotations her answer held. Kerry shook with silent laughter, her green eyes filling with tears and her teeth clamping down on her lip as she stifled the guffaw she would almost certainly let out._

(…)

Don smirked as she recounted the tale and blushed furiously. "You're cute when you blush," he told her. She scowled. "And when you're pissed," he added. Lissa looked at her watch.

"I gotta go; it's my turn to rehearse this afternoon."

"I'll walk you back," Don offered, but Lissa refused.

"It's out of your way," she argued as they headed back outside.

"Not much," Don retorted. His phone chirped and saved them from any further argument. "I gotta go babe."

"No rest for the—"

"Don't say it, Liss." He kissed her before sprinting in the direction of the precinct to pick up a car and drive out to the crime scene.

(xxx)

"…_so Holly's on tonight. Jools is out, obviously. She's flying back out to Olympia tonight. I gotta go; Coral's waiting to transform me into a cripple."_

Don ended the call with a smile on his face. Out of a twenty minute conversation, all he had managed to decipher was that Glinda had a family emergency and had to return to Washington, so her standby was performing. Anything else had been lost somewhere as Lissa spoke excitedly and faster than Don had ever heard. He made a mental note never to call her right before a show again.

(xxx)

"The end is nigh," Bradley Greene whispered into Lissa's ear as she watched the final scene of the show from the safety of the wings. She elbowed him in the ribs and he dropped his Dillamond mask.

"Don't sneak up on me like that!" she hissed.

"Don't sneak up on her like that," Jason Procter added, wrapping Lissa in a bear hug. She tapped him on the head twice, the coarse fabric of his silver Boq hat tickling her fingers. The three settled into silence as Holly Cassidy, the Glinda standby, began to speak. After she had spoken, she exhaled heavily and tightened her grip on the book in her arms. She looked down at Kerry Mackenzie and Andy Bauer, Elphaba and Fiyero, and listened as they comforted each other. Taking a breath, she began to sing.

"_Who can say if I've been changed for the better, but because I knew you, I have been cha—"_

A shot rang out in the theatre.

_... to be continued._


	2. Chapter 2

Again, no spoilers for CSI: NY, but **vague spoilers for 'Wicked'**. I don't own CSI: NY or its characters, nor do I own Wicked or its characters - more's the pity, really. I do, however, own Lissa, Kerry, Andy and the rest of the Wicked cast - they're all mine; any resemblence to real people is entirely coincidental. I do not own the summary line for this fanfic, either; I believe I accidentally omitted that bit in the previous chapter. It's not mine, it belongs to whichever genius composer wrote the song (Lullaby of Broadway). To the best of my knowledge, the technical info about Wicked is correct (the harness used for the bubble, swings, standbys etc.) For beta reading, support and laughter, I thank **delgaserasca** and Iona.

* * *

**LULLABY OF BROADWAY**  
_(sleep tight, let's call it a day; listen to the lullaby of old Broadway)_  
(xx 2 xx)  
---

Holly fell limp in the bubble. Kerry collapsed weakly against Andy, warm blood hitting her face. After a split second of total silence broken by the heavy book hitting the stage with an echoing thud, a cacophony of sounds rang out from all directions. The curtain was dropped and an announcement was made instructing everybody to stay in their seats and not to move.

On stage, the cast sank to the ground in place, holding to each other for comfort. In the wings, Bradley and Jason held Lissa as she cried. Somewhere behind them, footsteps echoed through the cavernous backstage area and Mia Wrangler flew into the wings, throwing herself at Lissa.

"What happened?" she gasped. Her sobs subsided and she sniffled miserably, avoiding looking out at the stage.

"She was singing and then… I don't know what happened!" Lissa clung to the Elphaba standby, still shaking. Bradley patted Mia's shoulder comfortingly. He was a gentle man, forty-something with a kind face and a kinder heart – he was the cast's confidante, though no one could ever take him seriously when he wore his Doctor Dillamond costume. He shuffled towards Jason, who was still staring blankly at Holly. She was still strapped into the bubble hovering fifteen feet above the stage. From his angle, he couldn't see, but Bradley knew Holly was gazing through the curtain at the audience. She hadn't seen it coming. He touched Jason on the shoulder lightly, but the younger man didn't flinch. He left his hand there, a silent gesture of comfort; somewhere in the back of Jason's mind, he recognised this and relaxed slightly.

A door burst open, and then another. New people were introduced into the chaos backstage, loud voices directing people to be calm and still and not to touch anything. Lissa felt a pair of arms wrap around her and she turned in their embrace. She came face to face with her boyfriend's chest and buried her face in his NYPD jacket, tears stinging her eyes as her sobbing resumed.

"I don't know what happened, Don!" she wailed between sobs. "I just… she… I don't know what happened!"

"Liss – Lissie, listen to me. Mac and Stella are the best CSIs this city has. They'll figure it all out, okay?" He dropped his chin to the top of Lissa's head and closed his eyes for a long moment. Eventually, he opened them and pulled away. "Let's get you guys out of here – the stage is a crime scene. I need you to go to a dressing room or something – somewhere inside the building. A uniformed officer will stay with you."

A young uniformed officer who introduced herself as Rachael led them away from the chaos and Don stepped out onto the stage.

"You okay, Flack?" Mac photographed Holly – still in the bubble – and motioned for it to be lowered. Don nodded. Sheldon stepped over and made a quick evaluation, before looking for a harness.

"Mac, I can't get her out."

Rosalind Webber spoke up. "She's hooked in at the back," she called. "It's my job to make sure she's in there safely.

"Can you unhook her now?" Mac asked, extending a hand to the pale woman in the middle of a tight cluster of her co-stars. Rosalind stood and stepped over her friends. She picked her way over to the bubble, which was now resting on the stage. She scrunched her eyes closed to avoid looking at her friend. Once she was behind the bubble, she opened her eyes and unfastened the restraints. Sheldon watched, fascinated.

"The hook is under the petals on her dress," Rosalind explained quietly, pushing the fabric aside. "It's attached to the hook on the bubble. Once it's done, I step right back and that's how they know she's in safely so they can move it." Rosalind unhooked Holly from the bubble quickly and she fell forward into the waiting arms of Mac and the assistant coroner. They placed her onto a trolley and zipped the body bag over her face.

"What happens now?" Rosalind asked. Her voice shook as she spoke and she swallowed hard.

"We find her killer," Mac answered simply. "I need this curtain lifted," he called to one of the stagehands still in the wings. The curtain began to rise, breaking the barrier between the stage and the now-empty auditorium.

Stella began to usher the cast members off the stage. Rosalind followed behind, looking over her shoulder at the empty bubble as she left the stage.

(xxx)

"I was watching Kerry. She and Andy were doing their _'we can never come back' _spiel. I saw a flash, like a camera, but there was a noise. It kinda… I guess it took a moment to register, because by the time I looked, people were screaming and Kerry was covered in blood. I thought it was her…" Barrett Johnson trailed off. He looked around the room. It was Juliana Hayes' dressing room; pink, with photographs littering the walls and surfaces. He'd only been in there once before, to say a quick 'hello' before his first –and so far, only- show in the role of Fiyero.

Across the room, Stella Bonasera scribbled something in her notebook.

"Did you know Miss Cassidy well?"

"We did a few understudy rehearsals together, but not many. She never really joined in with us, y'know? A bit of a loner, really. Played guitar real nice, though."

(xxx)

"It was this blinding flash. I thought it was a camera. I couldn't see anything after that, just spots. But the noise… it made my ears ring. When my vision cleared and I looked up, she was still staring out over the audience, but her dress was soaked in blood and the book was on the floor. That's when I figured it wasn't a photograph," Katherine Tyler explained.

"Tell me more about Miss Cassidy," Stella prompted. Katherine played with the curls of her wig.

"She was quiet. She liked to read and play guitar rather than sitting and fooling around with everybody. I heard she broke up with her boyfriend recently, but I don't know if there's any truth in that – I just heard bits and pieces of conversations. It's hard not to overhear stuff in a place like this."

Stella nodded.

(xxx)

"It was right at the end of the show, damn it," Kerry cursed. "We were singing, I saw a flash, heard a noise; I don't remember much after that. Andy said I swooned and fell at his feet. Bastard."

"Tell me about Miss Cassidy," Stella instructed gently, trying to calm the feisty actress.

"Holly was a quiet one, 'til you broke her down. But she never had any enemies. No one could even say no to her. She _always_managed to con people out of their last cookie or whatever."

"You knew her pretty well?"

"I guess you could say that. We performed together quite a few times. It's important for us to have that friendship bond." Kerry looked down at her hands. They were still green. Her face and dress were splattered with blood. The room suddenly felt small and cramped.

"You said she had no enemies?"

"God, no. Holly was like… she was everybody's friend, even if she preferred to play her guitar instead of fooling around and making an ass outta herself."

"Did she have a boyfriend?"

"She broke up with this guy, Ray, like three months ago. They'd only been dating for maybe six weeks. It wasn't that serious and she said it was the happy kind of break-up."

(xxx)

"I had my back to the audience. There was a flash reflecting off the back wall of the set and I saw Kate – Katherine Tyler, stood in front of me, facing me – flinch. My ears were ringing, I'm not quite used to the full orchestra; I'm not on stage every night." Tessa Janson recounted the event.

"Why's that?"

"I'm a swing, so I only get to go on if a member of the ensemble is out," Tessa explained. "Casey Harrison – she usually plays the witch's mother – is in the Maldives on her honeymoon, so I'm on in her track for the next week and a half. It's a tough gig, I have to know where each member of the ensemble should be at all times, because I could be called out to perform as any of the girls on any given night…" Tessa trailed off as she spotted a photograph on the vanity table. It was Holly and Jools in matching Glinda costumes, grinning widely at the camera. She remembered taking the photograph herself.

"Did you know Miss Cassidy well?"

"Pretty well, I guess; neither of us had to be on stage every night so we hung out in either her dressing room or mine most of the time. She played guitar real well, she was teaching Mia and I how to play. It passed the time."

"You spent a lot of time with her then," Stella stated. Tessa nodded. "So you might know what was going on in her personal life?"

"Not really," Tessa answered slowly. "She was pretty private. Didn't talk much about herself. I know her parents live in New Hampshire, she went to college in Cincinnati and she has a brother called Phil. Oh, she dated this guy, Ray, for a few weeks, but they broke up months ago."

(xxx)

"I hate this _stupid dress_!" Lissa paced around the room, tugging at the skirt of her black dress. Kerry followed her with her eyes.

"Please stop pacing?" she asked. Her eyes shone with tears. She rubbed at her green face with a flannel.

"I don't wanna stop pacing!" Lissa argued, her voice increasing in pitch and volume. She was perilously close to hysteria when Stella called her name from the doorway. Lissa pouted and growled uncharacteristically, but she followed Stella to her colleague's dressing room and prepared herself for the inevitable interrogation. To her surprise, it was much more informal than she expected.

"You knew Holly well, then?"

"Well, kind of. I mean, we didn't really rehearse together or anything because I only ever have one short scene with her character – rehearsals are what tend to build the strongest bonds. But Jools went on vacay a few weeks ago, so Holly did most of the shows. And the three of us witches tend to hang out a lot, so we got pretty close." Lissa forced a smile.

"Did you see what happened?"

"I was in the wings, stage right – her side of the stage. Me, Jase and Bradley were watching the finale – we're not in that scene." Lissa paused. She took a deep breath and pulled out everything she'd been taught at school on how to be calm throughout. "She just… I don't even know what happened. One minute, she was singing; the next, she… wasn't." She sighed and pulled at a loose thread on the cuff of her sleeve. "I don't really recall much of what happened between her singing and her not singing," she sighed sadly.

"That's not uncommon," Stella told her. Her voice was warm and comforting and her eyes softened. Lissa looked up and found herself enchanted by the detective's sparkling green eyes. It was only when Stella spoke again that she was pulled from her reverie. "The brain tends to block out traumatic events."

Lissa could only nod in response.

(xxx)

Don poked his head around the door to find Stella using the room as a makeshift interview room. She had just called Rosalind in. Don sat beside Stella and listened.

"Miss Webber—" Stella began.

"Roz. Can I take this wig off?" Rosalind interrupted. She nodded her head from shoulder to shoulder. Her wig was heavy and outrageously styled and the wig cap was beginning to irritate her head. Stella nodded.

"Did you see what happened?" Stella prompted. Roz lifted the wig from her head and placed it carefully on the floor beside her seat. She peeled off the wig cap and began pulling pins from her hair, carefully piling them on the vanity table beside her.

"It was the finale. Holly was singing, and we were just standing there, waiting for our cue. Then there's this light, like someone took a photograph – obviously they're not supposed to, but you'd be surprised how many people record the show or photograph it – anyway," Roz paused and swallowed hard, trying to ignore the tears stinging her eyes. "I ignored it at first, because we're not supposed to break or anything even if we see it – but then I realised the noise wasn't a camera. It's like it happened in slow motion. I looked up at Holly; she was just staring out over the audience, still singing, 'til it hit her, like… like she didn't even see it. Then she went all floppy and dropped the book. Kerry passed out, I think; I saw her fall against Andy... I never looked out at the audience 'til it was too late. When I did, people were screaming and trying to get up and run out or whatever." Tears rolled down Roz's face, smudging her careful makeup. She made no attempt to wipe them away. She continued to remove the hair pins methodically, running her fingers through the auburn curls as she unpinned them.

"How well did you know Miss Cassidy?" Don asked. Roz winced at the use of the word 'did'.

"Pretty well… we kind of had an understudy bond, even though she's a standby – it's still kind of like an understudy. Even though we joined the company at the same time, she sort of took me under her wing; especially as we both found our feet. We did some rehearsals together. She was always pretty quiet."

"How so?" Stella asked. She'd been making notes in a small notebook, and as she turned to a clean page, the sound of rustling sent shivers down Roz's spine.

"She never came out with us after shows. She usually stayed in her and Mia's dressing room with a book or her guitar."

"Do you know of anyone who has a grudge against her?" Don took over questioning as Stella scribbled as fast as she could.

"Not a serious grudge."

"What do you mean by 'not a serious grudge'?" Don pressed. His mind was racing.

"We – the understudies – have a friendly competition going. A lot of us – for main roles – started at the same time and we decided that the first one of us to do fifty shows would have drinks bought by everyone else. Holly was leading by two shows."

"Who's second?" Stella asked. She didn't look up from her notebook.

"I am. Well, I was – I guess I'm first now. I'm still pretty far off fifty though."

"What role do you understudy?" Don wanted to know. Roz seemed confused to the question's relevance, but she answered anyway.

"Nessarose – the crippled sister." Realisation washed over Don's face – the girl in front of him, barely twenty, he guessed, was Lissa's 'Baby Nessa'. It was not missed by Roz, and she in turn realised that the blue-eyed detective in front of her was Lissa's blue-eyed detective.

"We're going to need to see her dressing room. Where is it?" Stella asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Roz tried to make the journey in her head.

"It's… this theatre is like a maze. It's right over on the other side of the building but you have to go down to get up there. I could show you?" She offered. Stella looked at Don and nodded, before standing up. Roz dumped the hair pins in a plastic tub in front of the mirror and picked up her wig.

"I'm going to need to speak to whoever plays the character on a regular basis," she told Roz as they left.

"Jools is in Olympia – she left this afternoon; her father's sick. That's why Holly was on tonight." Roz's voice shook at the mention of her friend.

"When will she be back?"

"I don't know. I think Kerry or Lissa have her parents' number though."

"I'll be speaking to them, too." They reached the door of Holly and Mia's dressing room and Roz fingered the paper sign with Holly's name on it. Stella dismissed Roz and she ran back down the corridor, slowing when she reached Kerry's dressing room. She heard the murmur of voices and tapped on the door lightly. Jamie Campbell tapped back, before pulling the door open. Roz fell into his waiting arms and he held her tight.


	3. Chapter 3

Once again, all the good stuff belongs to someone else: Wicked, CSI: NY regulars, the various movies and musicals mentioned, Helen Dallimore and Julia Murney... The cast of Wickedare all mine, though. With thanks to delgaserasca for betaing.

* * *

**LULLABY OF BROADWAY**  
_(sleep tight, let's call it a day; listen to the lullaby of old Broadway)_  
(xx 3 xx)  
---

"Why does Wickedness happen?" Lissa laid her head against Don's chest. Mac and Stella were no closer to finding whoever killed Holly and she was getting frustrated. Don would remind her that it had only been two days, but Lissa was not consoled.

At any other time, Don would have complained about Lissa's question. This time, however, he shrugged it off and pulled her against him. "I don't know, babe."

She sighed heavily and closed her eyes, wishing once again for peaceful slumber to take her. It didn't.

Lissa had been plagued by nightmares since that fateful night and was restless at home during the day. Since the theatre was still out of bounds and her show was, until further notice, not playing, she had been spending her time at the lab, answering questions about Holly: her career, the show, and the rest of the company. She spent most of her time in the break room, nursing mugs of hot tea and conversing with whoever entered.

She was just about to refill her mug when her phone rang. She returned the freshly brewed pot to the counter and dug her phone from her pocket.

"_Lissa, it's Roz."_

"'Sup, NiT?" Lissa forced herself to sound cheerful. She was surprised how easily it came upon hearing her friend's voice.

"_NiT?"_

"Nessa-in-training," Lissa explained with an exaggerated sigh. "Baby Nessa didn't really fit there."

"_Roz will do just fine, Liss."_

"So, did you call for a reason?" Lissa sandwiched her phone between her shoulder and ear and poured tea into her mug.

"_Huh? Oh, yeah. Are you doing anything today?"_

"Harassing my boyfriend and the CSI team, why?"

"_Wanna go out? I have untouched paycheques and Macy's sale is calling my name."_

"Macy's have a sale?" Lissa asked excitedly. "I'll be there in an hour!" She ended the call and took a gulp of tea, before deciding it was too hot and dumping the rest down the sink. She rinsed out the mug, grabbed her purse and hurried out of the room, hoping to bump into her boyfriend on the way. She did, and she swore she saw him visibly relax when she told him where she was going.

She went home first, to change into a nicer, shopping-friendly shirt and a more comfortable pair of shoes. She discarded half of the contents of her purse and left them strewn across her bed as she rifled through her room to find other things. Eventually, her purse filled with more unnecessary necessities, she left her apartment, locked the door behind her and practically skipped to meet Roz.

(xxx)

"Baby Nessa!" Lissa greeted Roz, pulling her into a bear hug. Roz returned the hug with equal force, almost crushing her friend. "How are you?"

"I'm okay. Jamie dragged me out last night and things kind of got better from there."

"Jamie, huh?" Lissa pulled out of the embrace and raised her eyebrow suggestively. She had long suspected there was something between her two co-stars.

"Not like _that,_" Roz insisted. "Just pizza. And then we walked. It helped, y'know, to see people – people who were there, who knew her, who understand what's going on."

Lissa had no answer, so she wrapped her arms around her understudy once more, before changing the subject. "Macy's! Let's go."

By mutual agreement, the girls headed straight for party wear.

"Do I _need_another dress?" Lissa asked.

"Duh," came the response. Roz pulled out a deep purple dress and held it against herself. She turned to Lissa expectantly.

"No need to respond, that was rhetorical."

"Someday, I will gag you."

"That dress would look so hot on you."

(xxx)

Several hours, several pit stops in Starbucks and a _lot_of money later, Lissa and Roz returned to Lissa's apartment, laden with bags. They found Don sprawled on the sofa, watching a classic hockey game on TV. He looked up as they entered and Roz suddenly resembled a deer in headlights.

"I should go," she began. Don cut her off.

"Don't leave on my account," he stood and crossed the room to his girlfriend. She leaned into him and smiled at Roz.

"We'll order pizza and watch movies. Call Jamie – or anyone. Or everyone! It'll be fun. We all need to unwind," she reasoned. "Hey, are Stella and Mac still working? Or Danny, or someone? They could come over too," she suggested.

"Knowing them, they're probably still at the lab." Don scoffed. "They should come over. They work too much – even by my standards."

Lissa smirked.

(xxx)

"You got something?" Stella called upon hearing the computer alarm.

"No match," Mac answered miserably. "Weapon's not in the system."

"Shit." Stella answered. "No fingerprints anywhere, it doesn't seem like any of the cast saw the guy – just a flash."

"Audience?" Mac asked, pushing himself off the desk he was sitting on and crossing the lab.

"The people on the front row – where the shot came from – were mostly teens. Lotto winners." Mac frowned.

"Lotto winners?" he repeated.

"You put your name into the lottery, and twelve or so names get called. You win two tickets if your name is called; you can just take one, obviously, then another name would be called for the single ticket. But if you win, you pay twenty-six fifty; if you don't win, you don't pay anything. And you get front row."

"Beats paying over a hundred bucks, I suppose." Mac mused.

"Anyway, the lotto winners – mostly college-age girls – said the man sat on that row was wearing all black. He was the only man on the whole row."

Mac nodded. "Black would keep him reasonably well hidden in the dark of the auditorium.

"Y'know, what gets me is how everyone's so calm about it," Stella began to tidy the counter she'd been using. "When Flack and I interviewed the cast, it was like nothing had happened."

"They're actors, Stella," Mac reasoned. "They're trained to be calm. If something goes wrong, they're taught not to flip out, to think fast and improvise – not to let their guard down to their audience."

"I suppose you're right," Stella conceded glumly. Mac's gentle smile became a smug grin and Stella had to bite her tongue to refrain from making a sarcastic comment.

"Saved by the bell," Mac noted, smirking, as the ringer on Stella's phone cut through the silence they had lapsed into. Stella stuck out her tongue as she answered it.

(xxx)

"Flack wants to know if we wanna go crash his girlfriend's pizza-movie party," Stella informed Mac as she flipped her phone shut. Mac raised an eyebrow.

"I'll give it a miss, thanks."

"Party pooper," Stella threw over her shoulder as she left the room. She found Danny and Lindsay in their shared office and extended the invitation to them, and then to both Adam and Kendall, the technicians with whom Lissa had struck up a friendship over the previous days. Only Adam and Danny accepted, and before long, the three of them were on their way to Lissa's apartment.

(xxx)

"Liss?" Roz yelled from the kitchen. "How are half the cast and half the NYPD going to fit into your not-very-big apartment?" She poured pretzels into a bowl and tossed the wrapper onto a pile.

"I'm moving furniture!" Lissa yelled back. "Oof."

"What are you oofing?" Roz snickered.

"Flack just dropped my coffee table on my toe."

Roz laughed freely as she cleared the empty food packets into the trash and rummaged through Lissa's cupboards. She pulled out bottles of soda and lined them up on the counter, before looking around. She had only been to Lissa's apartment once before and she hadn't stayed long. It was homey, she noticed; warm, neutral colours gave the entire apartment a comfortable atmosphere. Lissa bounced into the kitchen as Roz was watching the fish.

"Oh, crap, I need to feed them!" Lissa exclaimed, following her friend's gaze. She opened a cupboard and pulled out a bag of fish food.

"Do they have names?" Roz questioned, fighting back giggles at Lissa's frantic actions.

"That one's Fillet," she pointed out. "That's Rabbit, and that one's Shiz."

"Shiz?" Roz looked mildly disgusted.

"I had the fish before the show?" Lissa attempted to justify her pet's name.

"You can't help yourself, can you?" Roz laughed. Lissa shook her head sadly before changing the subject.

"So, who's coming?" Lissa carried bowls of food into her living room and strategically placed them on windowsills and side tables.

"Kerry, Andy, James – oh, God. Maybe half of the company?" Roz followed suit with the remaining bowls, before returning to the kitchen for a pile of paper plates she'd dug from the depths of Lissa's cupboards.

"Don said only Stella, Danny and Adam were coming from the lab. Everyone else either has a date or is a party pooper."

"So, only three extra people. We can squish up a little." Roz stated.

"I'm sure Jamie wouldn't mind if you wanted to sit—"

"Don't even go there," Roz warned. The door buzzed and Lissa smirked. "You can hold that comment, too."

"Would I ever say something like that?" Lissa feigned innocence as she headed to the door, only to find that Don was already there and greeting his colleagues from the lab. They were invited in and introduced to Roz, who had moved over to Lissa's TV cabinet and was sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by piles of DVDs. She wriggled her fingers in greeting before diving back into the cupboard and pulling out another pile.

"Liss, you need a better DVD organisation system." Roz complained, shaking dust from her hair.

"Says she who has them in various piles strewn throughout her entire apartment!" Lissa retorted. "Keep _The Wizard of Oz_ out?"

Roz and Don answered her with vehement cries of "No!" and Roz tossed the box back into the cupboard. She held up DVDs in each hand and waited for a response.

"Seriously?" Danny whined. "_Xanadu_?"

"We could watch _Moulin Rouge_?" Roz suggested, holding up another box. "Or _Rent_?"

"That one has Rosario Dawson, she's hot. Keep that out," Adam instructed. He knelt beside Roz and surveyed Lissa's DVD collection. "Basically, you have chick flicks, British period dramas and musicals?" Lissa scowled.

She was saved from further argument by the door buzzing again. She opened it to six of her cast members and was about to close it again when Sara Bassett and Brianna Regan called her name. They slipped through the door and closed it behind them. Moments later, four more people trickled in and the party was complete. Introductions were made as everyone climbed over each other and settled down.

"Jase, Nicole, Andy, Christy, Barrett, Rosie, Sara, Brianna, Michelle, Bradley, Jamie, Kate," Lissa pointed to her co-stars as she named them all for the scientists. "Stella, Danny, Adam – and you know Roz and Don."

As Lissa introduced everyone, Stella noticed how the actors in the room had no qualms with sitting close together – or even on top of each other if there were no free seats. The people introduced as Jase and Nicole were sat together, but from the joined hands, Stella deduced that they were indeed a couple. Brianna had settled herself in Barrett's lap and Sara had sat beside him, resting her head on his shoulder.

Roz held up a DVD box and listened for affirmative votes. Hearing more encouragement than negativity, she slid the disc into the player, turned on the TV, grabbed the remote control and settled back against the sofa, between Jamie's legs. Lissa smirked at her.

(xxx)

A little over two hours and a box of Kleenex later, Roz crawled over and ejected the DVD with a sigh. Behind her, Sara and Brianna were singing _Seasons of Love _quietly. Barrett laughed at them.

"Who's for pizza?" Lissa, settled comfortably in her boyfriend's embrace, pulled away and climbed over Bradley and Michelle to stand by the door to the kitchen. People began calling out affirmative answers and pizza suggestions and she silenced them all with a sharp whistle.

"Can we get a non-pizza option too?" Kate asked. Bradley threw a pretzel at her. "Fine, gunk up your chords, I don't care!"

"We can get cheese-free pizzas, I usually do," Lissa answered. "Hands for cheese free?" All but Don, Stella, Danny, Adam and Bradley raised their hand. "Decide your toppings amongst yourselves," she instructed and tossed the phone to Don. "Don will call." Don raised an eyebrow.

(xxx)

Evening came and went, and the sun set outside Lissa's window. The group talked about theatre, politics and current affairs; once in a while, someone would share an embarrassing story involving their friends. Holly was spoken of frequently and as Stella and Danny left, they promoted the group of actors that they would do everything in their power to find their friend's killer.

The remaining guests pitched in before sharing theatrical farewells and leaving. Before long, the only people left were Roz and Jamie.

"C'mon, I'll walk you home," Jamie offered and Roz smiled gratefully. Lissa smirked. As they left, Roz turned and scowled. Lissa feigned innocence and smiled cheerfully.

(x)(x)(x)

The following morning, dressed in a new outfit bought during the previous day's shopping spree, Lissa returned to the Gershwin theatre for the first time since her friend was murdered. Lining the wall outside the stage door were bouquets of flowers in their thousands. She knelt to read some of the cards.

"Helen freaking _Dallimore_sent flowers?" Lissa exclaimed to herself.

"We Glindas stick together," a voice behind her spoke.

"Jools," Lissa sighed. She didn't look up.

"There are more flowers at the front entrance. It's like an ocean."

"How's yo—"

"He died on Tuesday night."

"I'm sorry, Jools." Lissa stood and hugged her friend. Jools clung to her like a life ring.

"There are flowers from Lara, too," Jools continued, referring to her predecessor, "and Julia Murney." Lissa pulled away.

"_Julia freaking Murney_?"

"This hit everyone. Holly wasn't exactly a tiny fish – and Broadway's family."

Lissa nodded. "Can we go in?"

"They're just cleaning up," Jools answered. "Show starts again on Tuesday."

"They okayed that?"

"Yeah," Jools nodded. "There's nothing more they can do _at_the theatre; holding it closed isn't beneficial to anyone."

"I guess not. So, you missed a party last night." Lissa changed the subject as she and Jools began to walk along the path outside the theatre.

"You had a party?" Jools eyed her friend wearily.

"Yup. We watched _Rent_ and ate pizza. With cops." Lissa turned to see the cleaning team leave the theatre, so she and Jools began to head back.

"Pizza with cops? Is that some sort of olive?"

Lissa huffed.

(x)(x)(x)

Lissa stepped out onto the stage cautiously. Above her, Jools was strapped into the bubble using the rehearsal harness. They had sweet-talked the stagehands into allowing them to use both the bubble and the stage to help settle their own nerves. Automatically, Lissa stood on her own number as the bubble was lowered, and slipped wordlessly behind it as it came to a halt on the stage. She unclipped her friend and Jools grinned wickedly.

"Want a ride?" She fitted the harness to her friend and watched Lissa's horrified face as the bubble rose once more.


	4. Chapter 4

I apologise for the wait, dear readers; though few in your numbers, I am grateful for each and every one of you.

Once again, I own none of the recognised characters, people, shows or trademarks. Lissa and her friends are characters of my own creation. With thanks to **delgaserasca **for betaing this.

* * *

**LULLABY OF BROADWAY  
**_(sleep tight, let's call it a day; listen to the lullaby of old Broadway)  
_(xx 4 xx)

"You any closer to finding this guy?" Don let himself into Stella's office and perched on the edge of her desk. Stella looked up at him.

"Morning Stella, how are you?" she exaggerated the words with a bright-but-forced smile.

"Sorry, Stel. Good morning."

"Morning, Flack. I have absolutely no idea who this guy is. He had someone else lotto for him, so no one at the box office can identify him. Whoever won his ticket did not attend the show."

"Shit," Don swore. "Prints on the bullet?" he asked.

"Nope, nothing. His weapon was unregistered and doesn't match anything in IBIS, his MO doesn't match any recent cold cases…"

"Inside job, maybe?" Don suggested, grasping at straws.

"Who, though? It's not exactly understudy rage – she _was _an understudy." Stella dropped her head into her hands and wove her fingers through her hair. "The other understudies for the role were on stage at the time."

"She didn't get to go on stage every night and she wasn't the only one. Maybe one of the others was jealous?"

"From what I've heard, they all got their fair share. They all have alibis, too; all check out – they were in a dressing room with members of the backstage crew watching _American Idol_. You're scraping the barrel, Flack."

"I promised, Stel. I _promised _we'd find that guy."

"And we will," Stella assured the troubled detective. "We'll find him."

"Before or after he does this again?" Don raged. He pushed himself away from the desk and paced around the small room. Stella felt dizzy watching him.

"Flack, there is _nothing _to suggest that this guy is going to kill again," Stella tried to reason but Don would have none of it.

"You don't even know who he _is, _how do you know his intentions?"

Stella had no answer.

(xxx)

"You guys any closer to finding him yet?" Lissa played with a button on Don's shirt as she settled against him.

"We got nothin', Liss. The guy's a ghost."

"How can he just leave no trace at all?"

"I don't know, Liss."

"What's it gonna take, Don?" Lissa's voice rose in both pitch and volume. "Does he have to kill someone else?"

"There's nothing to suggest he's a serial, Lissa. You know I can't discuss this with you."

"Whatever, Don. I'm going to bed. You can see yourself out." Lissa pushed herself to her feet and left the room. Don heard her bedroom door slam. He sighed to himself before gathering his jacket and his weapon and holster that he'd discarded on Lissa's table. He left silently.

(xxx)

Danny dropped onto the sofa in the break room and scrubbed at his tired eyes with the palms of his hands. He didn't notice Mac and Lindsay sat at the table, quietly sharing the newspaper, having separated out the sections and chosen which ones to read.

"I need coffee," he announced to himself. A ghost of a smile danced across Mac's face.

"You'll have to wash the pot or find a new one, Adam made the last pot…"

"It might wake me up," Danny answered his boss with a tired sigh. Lindsay glanced up from the entertainment section, horrified.

"You're a braver man than I, that stuff is _nasty_!"

"You've never tasted my pa's coffee," Danny smiled. His eyes were void of their usual twinkle, and with his grin, Lindsay couldn't help but shudder a little – Danny's face was pale and drawn, with dark rings around his pale eyes. He looked like the stuff of nightmares. "My insides are well-conditioned."

(xxx)

Sheldon hummed to himself as he moved around the lab. He put a slide together and slid it under the microscope. He peered into the eyepiece and sighed. "I knew it was too good to be true," he lamented, and began to pack away the evidence he had pulled out on a whim.

"What was too good to be true?" Stella asked as she crossed the lab. Sheldon spun and stumbled slightly. It was not unnoticed by Stella, who smiled apologetically.

"Nothing, I just had a brainwave. Didn't lead to anything, though. We still have absolutely nothing on this guy."

"Nothing _yet_," Stella noted. "Hawkes, what do you know about theatre actors?"

"Not a whole lot – I don't exactly have much chance to escape to the theatre," he answered awkwardly. "Why?"

"About a year or so ago, I went to see _Hairspray_ with an old friend. Anyway, after the show, a bunch of kids – and adults – headed down to the stage door where the actors enter and leave."

"What, pray tell, does this have to do with our case?" Sheldon resealed the evidence box and signed the tape with his initials.

"Fans have easy access to their favourite actors. All they have to do is wait there and stop them on their way in or out."

"You're thinking a fan is behind this? Why?"

"A disgruntled fan, maybe. Perhaps someone who liked Holly a little too much."

"A stalker?"

"Perhaps. Maybe someone tried to stop her, but she was in a hurry? Or maybe someone couldn't take 'no' for an answer."

"It's worth looking into – but how many people hang around there every day?"

"That's why I'm going down to question the cast again. If I can find out what time Holly usually arrived and left, I can speak to those who arrive and leave around the same time and see if they saw or heard any exchanges between Holly and her fans."

"Good luck," Sheldon answered. He pulled the box off the counter and began to leave the lab. "I'm not sure you'll find anything, though."

"Wanna come with me?" Stella ignored Sheldon's pessimism, determined to catch Holly's killer, somehow. She followed Sheldon out and locked the doors behind them, stopping just short of running her colleague over when he came to an abrupt halt in front of her.

"Let me sign this back in," he told her.

(xxx)

"I can't think of anything," Mia sighed. "I mean, yeah, we often end up disappointing people because we really have to be in here – or elsewhere – but I can't think of anything major. Actually, I think Holly's fans are the most decent of them all – I mean, Kerry and Jools' fans, they're crazy. They make shirts proclaiming their love and devotion, they're here on a weekly basis, if not more often, constantly trying to monopolise their time when they work their way down stage door lines after shows… they're mad. Holly's fans are pretty much the only ones who have some decency and self-control, I think. All the ones I've met have been absolutely lovely, if a little mad."

"And you and Holly came to the theatre together?"

"Yeah – she lived in the apartment right opposite mine, so it only made sense for us to both come in together. We were usually in one of the apartments together anyway – it's so quiet now, without her. Are you any closer to catching him?"

"We're working on it, but right now we have no solid leads." Stella smiled thinly. Never before had she felt something so fierce driving her to close this case with the murderer behind bars.

"He's not gonna turn up, is he?" Mia asked sadly. She breathed deeply.

"We're doing everything we can," Stella assured. "Your cooperation is appreciated." Mia sighed heavily before excusing herself to be made up – she was to play Elphaba for that afternoon's performance and needed to be painted green.

(xxx)

"I hate men," Roz complained bitterly. "Except Ben and Jerry."

"Who is this?"

"Oh, God, I uh… did I call the wrong number? I'm looking for Lissa—"

"No, this is her cell. Just a second," Don frowned. He was sure he'd heard his own phone ringing, but upon closer inspection, it was indeed a pink, mirrored cell phone belonging to his girlfriend. He headed for the kitchen.

"Your phone woke me," he stated.

"Good, you shouldn't be asleep. It's three-thirty."

"I worked all night," Don grumbled. "I'm going back to bed." Lissa read the screen before holding the phone to her ear.

"What's up, Baby Nessa? Lissa is listening."

"I hate men," Roz repeated. "And being left on hold."

(xxx)

Lissa arrived at Don's desk to find him hard at work, his brow furrowed. He looked up as her shadow fell over him, and she smiled brightly.

"I just came by to take you to lunch; can you spare an hour or so?" As she spoke, Danny sauntered in and clapped a hand on Don's shoulder, not quite registering Lissa's presence.

"Flack, man, you good to go?"

"Oh, if you guys are doing something… I'll see you later, okay?" she stopped herself as she began to ramble, before turning and leaving as quickly as she had arrived. She and Don had not yet talked about their disagreement three nights ago, and she felt as though she were treading on eggshells.

Don opened his mouth to call after her, but decided against it. He watched with sad eyes as she left.

"She'll come around," Danny assured his friend. "Just give her time."

_(to be continued)_


	5. Chapter 5

I own the people you _don't _recognise from the TV show. I don't own those you do, nor do I own Legally Blonde: The Musical (or its costumes), the Palace Theatre, Wicked the musical (or costumes), or any other registered names, trademarks or people who may be mentioned. Please don't sue me, I have a grand total of 32p. Can't even buy a loaf of bread with that!

With thanks to **delgaserasca** for the beta.

* * *

**LULLABY OF BROADWAY**_  
(sleep tight, let's call it a day; listen to the lullaby of old Broadway)  
_(xx 5 xx)

Sophie Bennett took a deep breath. She squared her shoulders and prepared for her grand finale. She continued to sing, occasionally glancing down at the conductor for cues. She gazed out over the audience. She couldn't see much past the first three rows, but she caught the eye of her best friend in the second row and grinned as the music came to a breathtaking crescendo, before pausing dramatically. Taking another breath, she opened her mouth to sing.

A shot rang out in the theatre.

(xxx)

"Damn it!" Flack's fist connected with his desk. Stella looked up expectantly.

"Bastard's done it again," he fumed. "Palace Theatre. Uniforms have the scene secured."

(xxx)

"Sophie Bennett, thirty one, shot once – right between the eyes." A young uniformed officer stepped aside to allow Don and Stella access to the stage. Don nodded curtly, thanking him for the initial information.

"Nice costume," Stella commented dryly, indicating the short skirt, brightly coloured cardigan and t-shirt with a print of a bulldog.

"The rest of the cast are in the green room, audience are still behind the curtain."

"I want uniforms speaking to everyone who is _not _in the first five rows. Keep the first five rows quarantined," Flack directed. Stella crouched and poked at a piece of set with gloved fingers. She held up a bullet triumphantly and dropped it into a small brown envelope.

(xxx)

"She was the only one on stage. I'd left, like, a minute and a half before. Oh, God," Veronica Parrish sobbed. "I wasn't even watching."

"You couldn't have changed anything even if you were," Flack held back his rage and comforted the sobbing actress. "Tell me about Ms Bennett."

"She was the star of the show," Veronica began. She pulled her wig off her head and began to unpin the wig cap from her hair. "My name may be on the posters, but Sophie was the star."

(xxx)

"Kennedy Leigh James?" A short, blonde-haired woman shuffled into the room with her shoulders slumped miserably. Don raised his head from the open playbill pages on the table and greeted her.

She nodded and wiped her eyes. Her mentor had been killed as she watched from the wings. She felt sick. Swallowing hard, she raised her head to look at the two detectives with red-rimmed eyes. She had heard about the previous murder – everyone had – and like everyone else, she was on tenterhooks.

"I understudied her role," Kennedy began. She stared at her hands, folded in her lap. She twisted her fingers nervously. "She was always so sweet to me – to _everyone_. I don't understand why someone would do this – not to Sophie."

(xxx)

"Mr Lake, how well did you know Miss Bennett?" Stella leant forward and rested her elbows on her thighs.

"Well enough to know she was a stuck up bitch." Freddy Lake sat back in the plastic chair, throwing his hands behind his head.

"Tell me more," Don interrupted.

"She was the social butterfly. She organised all the get-togethers and the meals and the parties and whatnot. Never asked me. Never asked Sid either. Sid reckons it's because we grew up in the Bronx or somethin'."

"So it's safe to say the two of you didn't get along?"

"Truthfully, we never really talked." Freddy's accent, softened by years of vocal training, strengthened to meet Don's with each word. "She did her thing and I did mine. Our paths crossed occasionally, but that's about it. I'm sorry I can't tell you much."

"You've been very helpful," Stella told him, before she ushered him out and closed the door. She exhaled heavily and looked to her colleague for assurance.

"Think this was hate-motivated?" Don asked.

"With the same MO as Holly Cassidy, who by all accounts couldn't swat a fly? You're grasping at straws, Flack."

(xxx)

"We have a lead!" Stella perched on the edge of Don's desk. He looked up expectantly. "Both Holly Cassidy and Sophie Bennett are graduates of Cincinnati's College-Conservatory of Music."

"Same year?" Don leant back in his chair, massaging his aching temples with his fingertips.

"Sophie graduated five years before Holly."

"So where's the lead?"

"He's targeting CCM graduates!" Stella's voice rose as her frustration increased. She couldn't believe how oblivious Don was being to the obvious connection.

"Two is not 'targeting'; two is 'coincidence'," Don stated.

"Come on, Flack, since when do you believe in coincidence?"

"CCM is the _only_ thing to connect these victims. They have nothing in common on their resumes, they don't look alike and they didn't even graduate in the same year. Hell, they didn't even co-exist at CCM."

"Work with me here. Can you find out class schedules from CCM? Get me lists of students studying there at the same time as Holly and Sophie."

"I'll get right on it," Don sighed. He pushed himself forward and began to tap at his keyboard.

"Thanks. Hey, Flack? How are you holding up? I know it's hard for you with Lissa so close to this…" Stella stood to leave, but placed a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder.

"I'm doing okay; it's Liss I'm worried about. She won't talk about what's happened – she won't even mention it unless she's yelling at me for not having caught the guy. I can't even tell her where we stand, investigation-wise."

"I'm sure she understands. Flack, she just lost one of her best friends. She's angry and she's grieving. Give her time."

"Yeah. Thanks, Stel." Don turned back to his computer and Stella squeezed his shoulder before leaving. It wasn't long before a shadow fell over his desk. He looked up to find his girlfriend with red-rimmed eyes and a small teddy bear in her arms. He stood immediately and embraced her, kissing the top of her head and crushing her against his chest. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to protect her from anything and everything negative the world had to offer.

Lissa pulled away after a few moments and held the bear out to him. "This is Roger," she told him. "He's for you. I've been a bitch. I suck at apologies, so he's apologising for me."

Don couldn't help but smile. He took the bear and sat it on his desk behind his keyboard, before hugging Lissa again. "You don't have to apologise, Liss. You've nothing to apologise for." She sighed into his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist, content just to hold him and be held in return.

(xxx)

"The only thing our two vics have in common is a professor at CCM, Dave Gerald. He still teaches there, he has a confirmed alibi to cover both murders."

"So we're back to square one," Stella sighed. She wiped at a speck of imaginary dirt on her trouser leg. "This is crazy, Flack. There has to be something."

"I cross-checked everyone on their class lists and in the yearbooks for each year they were at CCM with lists of convicted felons and found nothin' – just a DUI from four years ago."

"So what do we do, close Broadway?" Stella asked. Her voice rose as her frustration increased and Don sighed. He leant back in his chair and stared at Roger, still sat behind his keyboard.

"Or warn all CCM graduates, since that's the only feasible connection we have. I don't know, Stel. We need to catch this guy."

A uniformed officer jogged over to Don's desk and looked questioningly at Stella. Don encouraged him to speak.

"Just got a call, there's been a disturbance at the George Gershwin theatre—"

"Thanks, Bailey," Don cut off the young man and jumped out of his seat, clipping his pistol into the holster on his belt as he followed Stella out of the precinct.

(xxx)

Don and Stella entered the theatre quietly. Whatever disturbance had arisen had calmed down and technicians were working hard to set up for the show that evening.

"Someone called 911?" Don asked. A hand rose in the air.

"That was me," a voice announced. The owner of the voice turned and Don found himself staring at his girlfriend, only half-costumed for the show beginning in ninety minutes. "Some guy claiming to be a journalist was trying to talk to Jools. Really shook her up. I didn't catch the whole shebang but Jools said there was something creepy."

"And this guy… left?" Stella raised an eyebrow. Lissa pulled a white robe around herself and led the detectives through a maze of corridors.

"Yeah. Not long after we called you – said he had all he needed." She stopped outside a door adorned with hand-drawn pictures and ribbons. Inside the room, someone was singing. Lissa knocked on the door and the singing subsided.

"Special delivery," Lissa sung. "Two detectives, just for you!"

Jools smirked. "I promise I'll give them back when I'm done," she answered, ushering the detectives into her brightly decorated dressing room. Lissa stuck out her tongue before skipping down the corridor to her own dressing room, to continue warming up for the show.

(xxx)

"He gave me his card," Jools reached behind her to her vanity and grabbed a printed card. She handed it to Stella, who studied it intently. "He was asking all sorts – seemed to know a lot, too. He seemed really… I don't know how to describe it. Suspicious, maybe – like he knew everything he was asking me. He seemed like he was hinting at stuff, kind of like he wanted me to ask or figure it out or something."

"Anything specific?"

"Not really – he kept using titles of shows, or words from titles. He said 'phantom' a couple of times, and 'title of show' and 'Xanadu'. It was like he was reading out his hit list or something. I'm not a detective or anything, but… it freaked me out, y'know? He was pretty aggressive. He grabbed my arm and tried to pull me away, then started yelling – that's when Liss called you guys."

"What did he look like?" Don asked, flipping through his notebook. He didn't look up.

"He was pretty tall, maybe six feet or so. Light hair, kind of mousey brown – like Mia's, only a little blonder. It was short and messy, didn't look styled or anything, just like he rolled out of bed and that's it. He had green eyes – really bright green eyes."

"Did you notice his clothing?"

"Dark jeans, olive green shirt – long sleeves. He was actually kind of hot, now I think about it."

A ghost of a smile crossed Stella's face. "Thanks. We'll see what we can do. You've been very helpful." She began to stand and Don followed suit. Jools turned towards her vanity table and picked up a pot of make up. She was pressed for time after talking to the detectives and would have to work fast.

"Anything to catch this guy," Jools answered, suddenly sombre as she caught sight of the photograph taped to her mirror.

Don and Stella left, and Don requested the opportunity to pay a quick visit to his girlfriend before they left. He followed the sound of laughter, recognising the route as one he'd taken with Lissa before. He stopped outside a door with Lissa's name and knocked. He smiled when he heard a squeal from inside the room, before the sound of a person bounding towards the door. He marvelled at her ceaseless energy.

"I just wanted to say hi," he told her, pulling her to him with an arm around her waist. She wore an undergarment, a skirt, and a wig cap, and she held a pair of leg braces in her hand. She looked up at him and grinned.

"I have less than half an hour to finish getting dressed, finish my makeup, warm up and say hi to everyone," she told him.

He grinned impishly. "You're not complaining, are you?" he kissed her softly and she tugged him through the doorway, kicking the door shut clumsily.

"Sit," she ordered, pointing at an overstuffed beanbag in the corner. She sat at her vanity and carefully applied her makeup, all the while regaling him with tales of her cast mates and impromptu parties in dressing rooms.

Before long, a tall, dark-skinned woman waltzed into the room. She was introduced as Coral, Lissa's dresser, and Don took that as his cue to leave.

"Break a leg, Liss," he said, straight-faced. Lissa smirked and kissed him one last time before he left.

"See you later?" she called after him.

"Depends how far we get with this – I'll call you!" he yelled over his shoulder.

_(to be continued)_


	6. Chapter 6

I don't own Phantom. I do, however, own the uniformed officers (who featured in previous chapters - I owned them then, too), the fictional cast of Phantom and anyone else NOT featured in the TV show. Mine, all mine. Thanks to **delgaserasca **for betaing.

* * *

**LULLABY OF BROADWAY  
**_(sleep tight, let's call it a day; listen to the lullaby of old Broadway)  
_(xx 6 xx)

"Why were you at the theatre on Tuesday, Rick?" A long night of CCTV-watching, database searching and questioning various people had brought Don Flack to a Wednesday afternoon in an interrogation room, face-to-face with a man he could only describe as 'sleazy'. Rick Sutton looked just as Jools had described him, although he had changed his shirt since they'd met.

"I wanted to see a show. That a crime, now?" Rick settled back comfortably into the hard, plastic chair. He grinned smugly, convinced he'd won.

"I got proof you didn't _just_ see a show last night."

Rick's expression turned defensive. "What'd that bitch tell you? I hit her? I held a knife to her throat?"

"Did you?" Don's eyes blazed as he leant over the table. His voice grew louder as he grew angrier.

"No! I tried to talk to her."

"You told her you're a journalist, Rick. You lied to her!"

"I didn't lie! Not entirely." Rick protested.

"You're not a journalist, Rick. You're a lowlife piece of scum, and if nothing else, you're being charged with assault. How did you know those details about Holly Cassidy?"

"What details?" Rick asked.

"Let's see," Don began, flipping open his notebook and reading from his interview notes. "Bullets, witness statements—"

"I don't know that! I never told her any of that!"

"So how did she know it, huh?" Don's fury intensified.

"Maybe she did it!"

"You're accusing her?"

"I don't know! I don't know anything!"

"You said it, Rick." Don motioned for the uniformed officer by the door to take Rick back to his cell.

(xxx)

"Every theatre in the city has tightened its security, Don. What do you want me to do, post officers at the doors of every single one?" Mac's eyes blazed, teetering on the edge of fury as he raised his voice. Even Don knew he was being unreasonable but he couldn't seem to help himself.

"If that's what it takes," he responded stoically.

"Don, this is getting at all of us, but you have to be reasonable. You know as well as I do that we're doing everything within our power right now." Mac turned abruptly and left Don in the corridor, trying to reign in his temper. It took all of his self-restraint not to stamp his feet and scream in frustration. He couldn't bear to see Lissa after her show – he didn't know how to face her, knowing she was still potentially at risk and they were no further in their investigation.

(xxx)

"_Imagine all the people-uh!"_

"Adam?"

Adam spun around to see Stella standing in the doorway, a smirk on her face. "Sorry," he apologized sheepishly. "No one else was in the lab and—"

"Have you got anything for me?"

"Right, yeah. The trace on your vic is mayonnaise."

"Mayonnaise?" A spark of recognition flashed across Stella's face and Adam watched her curiously. She took the sheet of paper from him and fled the room, narrowly missing a small group of technicians on their way home.

"You're welcome," Adam announced to the empty room. The computer in the corner signalled a successful database search, and as Adam read it, his eyes widened.

He ran from the lab, yelling.

(xxx)

"World still turns, Flack," Danny stated, tossing a baseball between his hands. He sat in the visitor's chair beside his friend's desk and watched as Flack massaged his temples. "People still killin'."

"I can't just let this one go."

"No one's askin' you to – we're still workin' on it. It's just _not _the most pressing case right now. It's been six weeks since Sophie Bennett's murder, Flack, and we still got nothin'."

"I can't even look at her," Don admitted after a moment of silence. "She's lost and hurting and I can't even look at her."

Danny didn't have an answer for that. He patted his friend's back awkwardly, before standing up to leave.

(xxx)

"Your vic had skin cells under her fingernails – they weren't her own. Neither were the nails, for that matter. Anyway, I ran the cells for DNA and found a perfect match – Frederick Lake."

Stella frowned. "Good work, Adam. _Very _good work." She pulled her cell phone from her belt and scrolled through her phonebook. "Flack, we have a lead."

She looked back before leaving the room completely. "Get me an ID on this girl, Adam."

(xxx)

"You know this girl?" Don pushed a photograph across the table. Freddy shrugged.

"Don't lie to me, Freddy. Your DNA's all over her."

"Yeah, I knew her."

"She got a name?" Stella asked. She stood against the wall in the corner of the room, arms folded defiantly across her chest.

"Jenny Martin. We went out a couple times. Well, sorta."

"And then she turned up dead."

"I guess so. Look, last time I saw her was two nights ago, she stopped by my place, we had a little fun, then she left for an audition or somethin'."

"She was an actor?" Don glanced quickly at his watch. Three fifteen – Lissa would be on stage. He squared his shoulders and took a breath.

"Dancer. Graduated from Syracuse last summer."

"You don't seem too cut up about your girlfriend being dead, Freddy," Don pressed.

"I wouldn't call her my girlfriend. We had a little fun, that's all."

"How did you meet her?"

"She's my sister's best friend. Look, Kitty didn't know Jenny and I were seein' each other and she'd flip her shit if she found out. Can we keep this on the D-L?"

A knock on the door interrupted the conversation before either Flack or Stella could answer. The visitor didn't wait for an answer before walking in and whispering in Stella's ear.

"He's done it again," she relayed the message to Don, quietly, just outside the door.

(xxx)

The Majestic theatre was a hive of activity when Stella and Don pulled up outside and pushed their way through the doors. Danny and Lindsay followed miserably, Lindsay having been called in from an afternoon off.

"Okay, guys; everyone in the first five rows needs questioning – plus cast, crew and anyone else who works in the building – especially if they were in the auditorium when it happened." Don addressed a group of six uniformed officers standing in the wings. He sent four away and ordered the remaining two to stand guard at the wings.

"I don't want _anything _left untouched," Stella instructed Danny and Lindsay. Lindsay nodded solemnly, while Danny pointed his nose in the air and squared his jaw, ready to work.

(xxx)

"Tell us what you saw," Rachael Cohen encouraged with a small sigh. She had been at the scenes of all three theatre murders and had heard the same story from every witness. "Take your time."

Maurice Baylis stared at his hands and willed himself not to cry. "I saw a blinding light and for a second, I thought I was about to pass out on stage again."

(xxx)

"Boom," Danny announced. He climbed out of the wooden boat in the middle of the stage and sealed a small brown envelope. He waved off the coroner's assistant as he wheeled a gurney into the wings.

"I think I found our shooter's seat," Lindsay responded. Danny knelt on the edge of the stage and peered down at her. Stella rushed over.

"There's a little GSR on these two seats – more on this one, though, so I'm thinking he sat here and held the weapon in his left hand as he shot."

"Great work, Lindsay. We got ourselves a left-handed shooter."

(xxx)

"You were watching the show, though, right? How did you not see anything?" Officer Omar Bailey was becoming frustrated. Normally, he knew that hearing the same story confirmed or disproved a suspect's story, but this case turned everything around.

"I was three rows back and almost right over to the side. With all due respect, I wasn't watching my fellow audience members."

"Miss Truth—"

"Katy-Jane."

"—Katy-Jane, I need to know exactly what you saw."

"Beatrice was singing, Maurice was encouraging her, there was a flash like a camera and a bang like Jimmy dropped his cymbals again."

"Who's Jimmy?" Rachael stepped in. She sensed her partner's frustration and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"He's a percussionist, he doesn't usually play for us – he's just a stand-in. He gets a little nervous and drops his shit sometimes, but he's a decent guy, I guess. I've only spoken to him once or twice. I just know that he's never played when I've been on."

"You and Ms Stein alternated the role – how did that work?" Rachael asked.

"I do afternoon performances and any extra shows. Christine is too demanding for one person to do eight shows a week, so she does six and I do two – and I cover if she's ill or on vacation."

"Kind of a shitty deal, isn't it?"

"At least I have a job. I get paid for sitting on my ass drinking tea and playing on Facebook six nights a week."

Omar cracked a smile. "Nice work if you can get it, huh?"

(xxx)

"I just heard this _bang _next to me," she sobbed. Don sat stoically, waiting for the girl to continue. He took note of her long, straight hair and braces, her face free of make up – he decided she couldn't have been much older than fourteen.

"There were screams and when I turned to see what happened, there was no one there."

(xxx)

"This is crazy, Stel," Danny broke the comfortable silence. Lindsay pulled a hair from the backrest of the GSR-covered seat. "I mean, this guy shoots and _disappears_? Talk about opera ghost."

Lindsay looked up with a raised eyebrow. Danny said nothing else.

(xxx)

"So, all I got is a flash and a bang," Officer Bailey reported.

"We know where our killer sat," Lindsay chipped in. "We haven't found that in the previous cases – perhaps he was antsy, waiting – sitting on the edge of his seat and not fully blocking the way for residue."

"The girls in the seats surrounding our shooter say he – or she, indeterminable gender – was white, possibly around five-ten, maybe six feet – and wore all black with a beanie." Flack added.

"Basically, we have no more than we had eight weeks ago when Holly Cassidy was killed." Rachael ran a tired hand through her hair and sighed.

"Basically, we're screwed." Another uniformed officer concluded.

(xxx)

"Natalie Frost – she played Meg, Beatrice's best friend – told me Beatrice studied at Marymount." Flack paced around the layout room impatiently.

"No connection whatsoever to our other two victims," Stella mused, sifting through items collected from Beatrice Stein's dressing room. "We have two dead CCM grads, one dead Marymount grad and a seemingly unrelated dead Syracuse graduate. The only link between them is performing arts."

"You reckon Jenny Martin is connected to this?"

"I don't know, Flack. I believe Freddy Lake's story, but something about him… I don't believe he's as innocent as he's leading us to believe. I just can't pin anything on him yet."

"If it's any help, Katy-Jane Truth – the alternate Christine – mentioned Beatrice joined Phantom recently from Legally Blonde."

"Workplace of Freddy Lake," Stella finished.

"What a small world."

(xxx)

Lissa flew into the break room at the lab and flung herself at her boyfriend.

"Don't mind me," Hawkes greeted her, and she looked up sadly. Sheldon smiled at her and nodded at Don before taking his water bottle and heading for Stella's office. Don led his girlfriend to the couch and pulled her into his lap.

"What's up, Liss?"

She glared at him, before succumbing to a fresh bout of tears. She buried her head in his chest and sobbed quietly. All he could do was hold her.

_to be continued._


End file.
